Wandering Child

These are just a bunch of ideas that I had about Ichabod's childhood and the day that his childhood ended. Enjoy, (:

April 14, 1775

Age: Seven years old

She had been missing for two weeks now; Ichabod was completely confused to where his mother had disappeared too. Whenever he tried to think back to that day, a horrible headache would form, the only cure for this headache would be to go to sleep. There were bandages across the palms of his hands, thick white bandages that his father changed every three days. Ichabod's father had been as helpful as a sack of bricks these past few weeks; he had not said a word to the young boy about his mother. The small cottage has changed though; a cold and gloomy feeling had filled the house the day that Elizabeth Crane disappeared. Ichabod sighs once more; another headache is starting to form, with a heavy heart and a thousand questions he slides under his covers once more.

July 3, 1775

Age: Seven years old

"I know what you are!" Samuel Crane yells, its midnight on a warm night and the reverend has just barged into his only son's room. Ichabod wakes up when he feels his father pull his ankles. Samuel has a wild and crazy look in his eyes that terrifies Ichabod, Ichabod is too scared to speak or even move as Samuel lifts up the small boy.

"I know what you are. I know what you are, and there is only one thing to do with your kind!" Samuel barks as he swiftly walks towards the cellar door, the sight of the cellar door seems to spark a fire inside Ichabod.

"No! No! Not the cellar!" Ichabod yells as he trashes wildly against his father and pummels him weakly with his tiny fists. His mother never let him into the cellar; there were all kinds of spiders and creepy-crawlies in the cellar. The one time that Samuel forced Ichabod into the cellar to fetch more candles for his sermon, Ichabod swears he almost didn't make it out of the cellar alive.

"Hit me all you want, you're not leaving until I prove your innocence!" Samuel announces cruelly as he swings open the wooden cellar doors, Ichabod screams as he plunges into the darkness.

"Witches have the power to move things with their mind, move the lock and you may go free" Samuel explains through the door, the sound of the lock being snapped shut sends a shiver of fear through Ichabod's body. Ichabod can't see his own hand in front of him, even though he can't see that doesn't stop him from banging his fists against the door as hard as he can.

"I'm not a witch! I'm not a witch!" Ichabod screams, with each scream he whacks the door, it's no use though. After a few hits, Ichabod quickly loses his energy and collapses against the door. Tears start to run down the small boy's face, he sits and sobs quietly for a few moments wishing more than anything that his mother was here with him when he feels something crawl across his leg. Ichabod's breath catches in his throat he brushes the thing off his leg, when he feels another thing crawl onto the back of his neck and left arm.

Samuel pulls open the cellar doors, it's been two days and Ichabod hasn't made a sound since the first night. A beam of light shines down into the darkness as Samuel stomps down the few stone steps, luckily Ichabod is on the floor directly where the sunlight is shining down upon. To Samuel's horror, his son is lying too still on the floor, covered in spider bites.

October 31, 1778

Age: 9 years old

"Father?" Ichabod asks fearfully, his father is hunched over his desk scribbling down facts and figures. Ichabod knows that his father is going to say no to his question, but it's worth asking. More than anything, Ichabod wants to be a normal boy and go outside tonight, to go to house to house asking for treats like the other children in his neighborhood.

"Ichabod, what is it?" Samuel demands, cringing at the name of his son, he despises the name that his witch wife picked for their child. Ichabod seems to be lost in thought and doesn't answer; Samuel pushes his chair back as he stands up and marches over to Ichabod.

"What is it Ichabod?" Samuel demands again as he shakes Ichabod's small shoulders, Ichabod jumps at the sudden human contact but snaps out of his daze. Samuel sighs when he looks at his son; he yearns for a strong son not some weak, science loving pathetic excuse of a son.

"O-oh hello Father" Ichabod replies nervously, as he fidgets, he's already having doubts about his question now that his father is in front of him.

"Ichabod, I tire of you, tell me what you need so that I may return to my work" Samuel commands coldly, he hates it when his son wastes his time on worthless things. Ichabod stops all movement and takes a deep breath, it's now or never.

"F-Father, I-I… Was wondering if I could maybe… Go out tonight with the other children and ask for treats?" Ichabod finally asks, Samuel gasps sharply and frowns deeply at his son.

"Go out tonight? With those heathens, who will all burn in hell for worshiping Satan?" Samuel demands angrily and strikes Ichabod across the face. Ichabod falls to the ground and immediately feels his face, already there's a flaming welt on his cheek, and tears start to form in his eyes, threatening to fall.

"I will not have my son, mingling with those imps!" Samuel continues on, Ichabod regrets asking his father to go outside, his father is furious and he doesn't show signs of calming down any time soon. Samuel then grabs onto the front of Ichabod's shirt and yanks him to his feet; Ichabod cannot help but tremble as his father glares at him.

"What was Elizabeth thinking? A boy doesn't belong here" Samuel thinks out aloud, Ichabod nods his head and takes that as his cue to leave his father's office. As least alone in his room, the tears can fall freely.

September 6, 1781

Age: Ten years old

Ichabod watches from his window and the glade outside as the leaves turned from a dark green to vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows. The leaves rain down on the small boy as he lays flat on his back in the soft grass that never seems to lose its neon green color. The air is crisp and fresh, nothing like the humid, moist air that filled the air only a few weeks ago. Ichabod takes a deep breath and slowly exhales; he can feel the cold air fill his lungs and it makes it feels alive.

In this moment Ichabod can be himself, for the first time this week he feels happy. There's no father to yell at him or beat him, there's no lesson to do or Bible verse to learn. There's only the falling leaves, crisp air and whatever thought pops into his head. Ichabod sighs happily and allows himself to think of his mother, the image of his mother fills his mind as he remembers there outings to the glade that he's in right now.

"Mother what is that?" Ichabod asks pointing to a small red bird on a tree branch, Ichabod is only about five years old and his mother is sitting next to him. Elizabeth smiles warmly at her son, she can already tell that her child is going to love learning and always want to learn more.

"That my darling is a cardinal. Listen to its song, isn't it pretty?" Elizabeth asks as the cardinal chirps happily, filling the glade with its sweet melody. Ichabod grins as Elizabeth wraps her arm around her child, in that moment everything seems perfect.

December 24, 1783

Age: Twelve years old

The wind howls as a mixture of ice and snow blows harshly against the small cottage. Ichabod sits next to the fire while he can, shivering violently and trying to get warm. Just ten minutes ago his father forced him outside to gather any firewood that he could.

"Ichabod, it's time for bed. I shouldn't be telling you this, you are a boy of twelve years" Samuel says angrily, he's in a bad mood, he told Ichabod to get firewood and his son came back with barely an armful of wood. Ichabod nods and stands up, his teeth are chattering and he cannot stop shivering, the only thing he doesn't want to do is go to his room. Ichabod's room is the farthest away from the fireplace, so it tends to be the coldest room in the cottage next to the room that's full of torture devices.

"M-may I-I make s-some t-tea?" Ichabod chatters, Samuel doesn't answer instead he glares at the boy. Ichabod quickly recognizes the hateful look in his father's eyes and rushes off towards his bedroom. Ichabod's bedroom at first looks like a bedroom with only the bare essentials, but a closer look reveals all of Ichabod's true interests. Medical texts that he bought from the old woman down the road are crammed under his bed, along with a few science textbooks.

Behind the Bible and few books that his father allows on the shelf above his desk is his chemistry kit. Ichabod is most proud of his mismatched chemistry kit; it took him a couple of months to collect the few vials of powders and scientific instruments. Ichabod gently closes his door and smiles, he may be cold, his room may be freezing but he has a room full of knowledge that's just waiting for him to play with.

March 1st, 1786

Age- Fifteen years old

This was it. The final straw. Burning tears run rapidly down his face, even though he is crying a huge smile stretches over his face. Ichabod's smile grows even bigger as he yanks out a woven bag that his mother made for him all those years ago, out from under his bed come the medical and science textbooks. A feeling of hope rises over the fear that fills his body as the texts are packed, along with the texts he throws in a change of clothing and his chemistry kit.

"I'm missing something" Ichabod thinks as he glances around his bedroom, he knows that he's running out of time but he cannot leave until he finds the things he's missing. Ichabod suddenly remembers what he's missing, in two large steps he moves over to the bookshelf that's over his desk. On the bookshelf is a small, wooden chest Ichabod opens it as the memories of this desk fill his mind. The nights spent awake working on things that his father forced him to; this desk is where he completed his schoolwork and where he created his first potion.

Inside the wooden chest is the paper disc with the cardinal and cage on opposite sides, that his mother used to spin for him when was scared. Next to the disc is the ring, with a metal design on it, Ichabod remembers this design as his mother's family crest. Ichabod quietly packs this disc and slides the ring on his hand, it's a perfect fit and he vows to never to take it off.

Samuel is working in the church; Ichabod can hear him practicing his sermon for the next day when he slinks past the white door. Ichabod doesn't take a second look at the church door; he takes a deep breath and quietly opens the front door. Ichabod with his small bag of life's possessions, and his top notch brain takes off running towards the glade and his new life.

The End… Or is it?

I might continue the adventures of Ichabod, anyways thank you writer's block for creating this.